


It Only Goes to Nine This Time

by Helena_Hathaway



Series: Stuck On An Elevator [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dildos, Explicit Sexual Content, Frerard, It wasn't supposed to have a sequel, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sequel, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top!Frank, Toys, Two Shot, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They still have that vibrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Only Goes to Nine This Time

**Author's Note:**

> The kind people on mychemicalromancefanfiction have asked for me to write a follow up to the elevator story with that vibrator that was just supposed to be a throwaway joke. As anyone whose seen the musical Twisted would know however, a throwaway joke is usually a segue into a completely unpredicted tangent, so here is that tangent, for your enjoyment.

Most people don’t meet the man of their dreams on an elevator. I think it’s perfectly likely that it’s happened before, and will happen again to someone else, but that doesn’t make it any less special. 

Frank is fucking perfect. I believe that wholeheartedly. I don’t care if I met him on an elevator, and he lives on the floor above mine, he’s great.

I’m not good with times, and memorizing things. I think that the calendar is a sadist device to try to make my life hell. I have almost never made it to a dentist appointment on time, and sometimes I just don’t go altogether. I’d probably forget about my own Presidential Inauguration were that situation to present itself to me.

What I’m trying to say is that I don’t actually remember how long Frank and I have been dating. Around eight months, maybe ten? I don’t know. It could be more or less than that, and I’m sure if I asked Frank, he’d think I’m being rude, but it’s not like I try to be clueless. I’m naturally clueless, thank you very much. I really should write these things down though, because sooner or later, I’m going to have to get him an anniversary present, and I won’t even know when. Hopefully he’ll warn me beforehand. Or I’ll just put out. 

I don’t know if that’s really the best present though, because we don’t really need an excuse to fuck. Our excuse is usually something along the lines of ‘congratulations on turning oxygen into carbon dioxide, now take your clothes off.’

That’s not the point though. The point is that Frank and I have been together for a while, and it’s really nice having my boyfriend live upstairs and all, but I’m not going to lie, that’s too far. I don’t like how far it is. I want him to be closer.

So I asked him to get closer.

“You met the guy on an elevator?” Mikey asks.

“Well I saw him all the time on an elevator, but it wasn’t until the thing got stuck that I actually really met him,” I say.

“You met the guy on an elevator?” Mikey repeats.

“Hey, it may not be the most romantic of settings in the world, but you try keeping your cool when someone that hot wants to fuck you.”

“Spare me the details, Gerard!” Mikey says, “We don’t tell our brothers about our sex lives.”

“But I just did,” I point out.

“And hopefully you never do again,” he replies giving me a famous Mikeyway eye roll.

“But still, you don’t hear a lot of met-in-an-elevator success stories. Come on, Mikes! It’s cool, he’s great.”

“He’s short,” Mikey states.

“You’re a prick,” Gerard replies.

“How original,” Mikey says, frowning. He turns to look at the room behind him, which is still a mess with boxes all over the place and junk splayed about. It still looks like Gerard’s apartment, with comics all over the place, and the feeling like a tornado just ran through, but now it’s Gerard’s apartment with boxes everywhere. In messy Frank handwriting the boxes say mostly gibberish, but the more intelligible boxes say things like ‘semi-important shit,’ and ‘shit that I don’t know why I still have.’

Frank slams the door open with his foot and carries in what is supposedly the last box, but he said that about the past four trips.

“This actually was the last one!” Frank says, and he sets it down on top of another one, that’s bigger and bulkier than the one in his arms.

“I’m glad, I’m exhausted,” I say.

“You’re exhausted? You didn’t even help with the past three trips!”

“You said it was the last box all three times. All four times actually. I’d have helped, but you were all ‘no, Gerard. Don’t bother this is the last trip, I swear.’”

“You were supposed to reply with something like, ‘no it’s okay, Frank. I’ll get this round, because you’ve already done so much work.’”

“How was I supposed to know that’s what you wanted me to do?”

Frank doesn’t answer immediately, and Mikey just shoves me then walks into the kitchen.

“We should’ve just cut a hole in the floor,” Frank says looking above him at the ceiling.

“I don’t think our landlord would have been happy about that,” I answer.

“Fuck him.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” I reply.

“Cheeky,” Frank says with a wink and saunters over to me. Putting one arm on the table behind me, he presses against me until I lean down to kiss him. It’s nice having a boyfriend, it’s been so long since I last gave a fuck about someone besides myself, or my brother.

“You two have fun unpacking, I’m going to steal your last coke,” Mikey says, and just like that he’s out of the apartment with the can in his hand. The door closes behind him, and I roll my eyes at the door.

“That bitch,” I remark offhandedly.

“But now we’re alone,” Frank states.

I look around pretending to check to see if anyone else is here when I know there isn’t, and say, “And what is it that we can do now that we can’t do with Mikey here?”

“Lots of things,” Frank says, “but there’s one specific thing I had been dwelling on all day.”

“And what was that, roomie?” I say, letting the last word slip off my tongue for the first time.

Frank doesn’t answer, just pulls me down so that I’m closer to him, and he attaches his mouth to my neck. Frank is pretty spontaneous, a lot of the time I’m only aware of what’s happening after it has started.

He’s also pretty quick to the punch, and I don’t have time to even say a sarcastic comment before he’s unzipping my pants, and shoving them around my thighs. It’s not exactly difficult for Frank to get me going, so I’m already half-erect by the time he gets my boxers down.

“Right h-here?” I stutter, but it’s hard to concentrate, and I’m not positive those are the actual words that I say or if I’m imagining it. His tongue is attacking my collar bone, and all I can do is put my hand on his waist.

“As good a place as any,” Frank says, “It’s our apartment anyway.”

Oh god it _is_ our apartment. What a great way to season it. It’s not like we haven’t fucked in this apartment before, the first time we ever fucked at all was in here, but now it’s not mine, it’s ours.

Frank doesn’t waste any time before he’s on his knees looking up at me, and I can’t help but look back at him, absolutely hypnotized by the look in his eyes.

Before he’ll just do it and suck me off, he teases me by kissing the skin on my thighs which is nice and all, but it’s just not as fun. I’m close to kicking him if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up. I’m impatient, and Frank knows that. I’m especially impatient when it comes to sex, and Frank _really_ knows that.

At last though, Frank puts a hand around my dick, and looks up at me again with those big puppy dog eyes that trying to fool me into thinking he’s innocent. He’s not an innocent guy though and we both know that.

I move my hand from the table edge, and get it caught in the tangles of his hair as he carefully takes the head of my cock into his mouth. It’s a relief, if I’m going to be honest about it, and I even sigh a little when I feel how warm and wet his mouth is.

“Oh Frankie,” I sigh, letting my head fall back, and he makes a chuckling sound. There are so many things I love about Frank it’s insane. For one thing I love his personality, and all that, but his fucking talent at giving a blowjob is up there on that list. I’m not vapid, by any means, or snobbish, because I do appreciate Frank in many ways other than the physical, but in the heat of the moment, I’m not going to say I don’t love his mouth. I do love his mouth. He’s got a great mouth.

The part of my cock that Frank can’t reach he quickly jacks off with his hand, and I’m ashamed to say I may pull his hair a little too violently. He likes it rough, and sometimes I can’t help myself.

The things this guy does to me and my twisted brain would make a porn star faint. Other than my years of strumming off in high school, nothing has ever made me cum as quickly as Frank. He’s a fucking wizard. I mean ‘fucking’ in both the sense of an exclamation and the act of fucking. Frank’s a fucking fucking wizard.

What I mean to say is that I release into his mouth a minute later, with Frank just letting me assault that beautiful mouth of his. I’ll never understand people who can swallow, but I thank god I’ve met a lot of them. It’s really hot when Frank does it.

“You’re beautiful,” Frank says to me, and he pulls himself up to look at me. Instinctively I pull my zipper back up, because it feels kind of weird being so exposed, even if I am in front of Frank. Either you pull the pants back on or you pull them off entirely, any position between is just uncomfortable.

Frank giggles, and he then kisses me. I can taste myself on him, and I pull away, for more reasons than that. Namely the fact that I can feel the guy’s hard-on on my leg.

“Let’s get you now,” I say, pulling the zipper down on his jeans. Usually Frank wouldn’t protest, but he gets this sort of childish look in his eyes.

“I had a different idea,” Frank says.

“What? So you don’t want me to get you off?”

“When you put it that way it sounds pretty bad, but I’m not finished with you yet,” Frank says.

“What do you m-” my sentence lurches off when Frank grabs my hand, and pulls me to my, I mean _our_ , room.

I think one of the things about Frank that I like is that he knows he’s not in charge. He knows I’m not in charge either, but really he knows that I’m not going to let him order me around. It’s a balanced relationship in that sense, though if we’re going to be absolutely honest here, I can be a little bossy. Sometimes he likes it though.

That’s not what’s going on right now though. Frank has determination set in his eyes, and fuck is supremacy hot on him or what. I’d let him rule the world if he’d look like that while doing it. I should watch him play the Sims sometime.

“What’re you doing?” I ask, before he just pushes me back onto the bed. He’s very cavalier when he wants to fuck me. I fall onto my back, and then Frank crouches down next to me, with his knees on the bed.

“Do you remember-”

“Probably not,” I interrupt.

“Let me finish,” he says, and rolls his eyes at me, “do you remember that vibrator?”

“The one that you seem to be so obsessed with? I do recall that. I haven’t needed it, because I’ve had your cock the past few months.”

Frank gives me a sideways smile then reaches over into the nightstand, and grabs at something. I know what he’s going to pull out before I see it, but when I do I don’t really intend to see that mischievous grin on his face. Oh yeah, I’d let Frank rule the world if he gave me a little smile.

Frank looks down at the thing, and he looks like Christmas came early. I don’t understand him. I really love him, but he’s like the fucking Rosetta stone. I mean, I know that thing was translated, but _I_ don’t know what it says, so it’s foreign to me.

“It’s big,” Frank states.

“So are you,” I answer.

“Not this big,” Frank replies, turning it over in his hands.

“It’s still not as nice as yours. I like having your cock. I like making you squirm so much that all you want in the world is to fuck me senseless. When you’re wild and all you care about is having your cock in my-”

“You made me a promise a long time ago,” Frank interjects.

“Did I?”

“Yes. You said I could fuck you with this,” Frank answers.

“I don’t recall that being what happened,” I answer, “what I do recall is you _asking_ if you could fuck me with it sometime. It was never a real promise.”

“But still,” Frank says. “I’d love to use this thing.”

“Why? Don’t you just want to fuck me yourself?” I say.

“I do, don’t worry, but there’s something so dirty about using this,” Frank replies, and he flips it on to check the strength. I can see into his mind so easily. I know precisely what’s going through that pervy little head of his. Frank just can’t help but picture me using it. Alone on a Saturday night, craving the feeling of being filled up. The thought is enough to give him a boner which is becoming even more obvious in Frank’s boxers.

“Why don’t you just let me touch you, dumbass?” I ask him, reaching for his pants again, but his hand shoos me away, and it’s really bothering me. “Fucking tease.”

“You’re so bossy,” Frank says, “take off your pants.”

“I’m sorry? _Who’s_ bossy?”

“You’re fucking hot, Gerard. You’re also bossy.”

I grumble slightly, but Frank is stubborn, and he takes matters into his own hands. Frank jerks my hands to my side, and then pulls my pants down for me. I mean, I guess it makes things easier for me.

Seriously though, Frank is practically bursting out of his pants, and I just want to touch him all over.

“Gerard, settle down, I’m gonna take care of you,” Frank says giggling, because I apparently started whining. “Lift your fucking hips up so I can take your pants off!”

“Fuck off,” I reply and kick them off in his general direction. I apparently have good aim because they land on top of his head.

“That was unnecessary,” Frank says, but his voice is muffled because he has a pant leg covering his face. I try not to laugh at him, but he looks so adorable with pants over his head.

“You’re ugly face is unnecessary,” I say.

“Oh please, you love my face,” Frank says, throwing the pants aside, and getting his shirt over his head. It makes his hair get static and cling to the sides of his face, so he has to brush it out of his eyes before he can do anything else.

“I think your face is ugly,” I state, though that’s obviously a lie.

“I think you’re a dick,” Frank says.

“But you like dick so wouldn’t that be a compliment?”

“You little fucker,” Frank says rolling his eyes, and he swings a leg over my hips. I really don’t understand how he can possibly be ignoring the hard-on in his pants. I can’t even ignore it.

“Actually, you’re the little fucker. You’re like three feet tall,” I say.

“Shut up,” Frank says, and he makes me shut up by putting his tongue in my mouth. I don’t mind.

My favorite part of kissing people is when your nose nudges the other persons. Like that small little nudge when you try to get in a little deeper, and you just feel that nose rub against yours. Usually the point is not to bump noses, but it’s not that, it’s this sort of closeness from my nose touching Frank’s. I can feel the little sigh out his nose when he kisses me like he’d been holding in a breath for a long time and finally got the chance to let it go.

“I love you, Frank,” I whisper, and I can hear the eyes rolling in his head. It’s a cheesy thing to say given the circumstances.

“Are you giving me permission then?” 

“Permission to what? Fuck me with a vibrator?” I ask, and he nods vigorously like a puppy, or a bobble head.

“Please?” he asks, and he tries to give me some sort of impressive look with his eyes and his eyebrows, but it just gives him a glossy lazy eyed stare. Frank is also trying to show off his eyebrow dancing skills. I think he’s trying to be seductive, but it just looks like his eyebrow is a caterpillar puppet being controlled by a twelve year old boy.

“You look absolutely ridiculous,” I tell him. 

“You sure you want to say that to the guy about to fuck you?” Frank asks.

I raise my own eyebrow at him and say, “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Frank scowls and his hands brush down the side of my torso lightly, “you’re right. Asshole.”

I grin up at him, and Frank just scolds me before grabbing at my boxers. Now I don’t normally protest, but I did just cum, so I’m kind of on the fence about doing it again.

“Frank,” I complain, “I just-”

“Yeah, but you’re horny already, and you’re so ready for round two, I just know you are.”

I sigh, but shrug, because it’s not exactly untrue. Frank is hot, I dare you not to feel the effect when he’s right fucking there.

“God, I hate you,” I say, but I let him take them off anyway. His hands are pretty tantalizing, I’d let him do anything with them. I’m seriously such putty in Frank’s hands, it’s kind of sad.

“I know you do,” Frank smiles at me, “Now on your stomach. Ass in the air, Way.”

I stick my tongue out at him, but I don’t really have any objection. I like having my own way, but I don’t really have anything else I want to be doing, so I just follow his orders. He looks a little surprised that I listen to him, but he smiles anyway.

I look over my shoulder with Frank still looking at the vibrator over in his hands like he’s never seen one before. I’m almost completely certain that he has though. Frank looks kind of intimidating at first glance, but then you get to meet him and he’s really sweet and kind, but he’s still a kinky motherfucker.

Frank reaches into the drawer again, grabs the lube, and I don’t say anything all the while. I hate prep, even though I’m not stupid enough to think I don’t need it. I just like getting down to business, but that’s really not an option. I just relax my body and feel Frank’s fingers at my entrance. His touch is soft, like always, and he’s patient as well. I’m not so patient, because I get fidgety very quickly. 

It’s not that it’s necessarily a painful stretch, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. Even after knowing the feeling all too well, it’s really not something I’m fond of.

Frank makes a tsk sound, and I jerk my hips away from him.

“C’mon, Frank. I’m ready.”

“You sure?” Frank says skeptically.

“Yes,” I tell him.

Frank shrugs, and I watch him pick the toy up again, roll it around in his hand once more, than look down at me with slanted, almost villainous eyes.

“I want to be sure,” Frank says quietly.

“And I’m assuring you,” I say, rolling my eyes, because we always seem to have this conversation. Frank’s too considerate for his own good.

“Well alright,” Frank says, and then a buzzing sound fills the room. To be honest, I’m surprised the batteries are still working. It really has been a while.

My mind kind of tries to decide what this is going to be like, but surely it didn’t prepare for the actual sensation.

I don’t know that there’s another way to describe a vibrator other than the obvious. It’s not something that should really be mysterious. It’s kind of clear. Vibrator. If you don’t know what that is, than you’re probably too young to understand it in the first place.

“Frank, fuck,” I say, because there’s no godly reason for me to be in this situation, but here I am, and it’s kind of perfect. I mean, Frank’s got no inherent problem with the whole dildo thing, but he was right about there being something so much dirtier about it this way. I can’t think of any circumstance that’s going to make me more viable for a ticket to hell, because I am definitely going there, no doubt about that. If Frank’s going to be there it might not be too bad. Oh who am I kidding? He’s definitely going to be there, I don’t think there’s an ‘if’ about it.

See, the biggest difference between Frank and the toy, other than the vibrating aspect, is that the toy is a lot thicker. I have never denied my own kinkiness. I bought it, yeah, and it’s been a long time, but still, I don’t think there’s a way to adjust quickly at all. 

“Gerard, I don’t know how to describe to you how hot you are right now,” Frank says.

I don’t respond, I kind of just gasp. Frank seems to like the reaction though as he snickers. I feel his hand on the small of my back, pushing me against the bed, but I can’t really get up, I’m a mess. I’m like sobbing chaos, except I’m not sobbing. I’m trying not to fucking cum again. It’s kind of hard, because wow.

My ears feel like they’ve been stuffed with cotton balls, and it’s hard to hear much of anything, but there’s a distinct change in the speed of the toy, and I know he turned it up a notch. It’s not like I have any control over Frank right now. He’s all lust filled eyes, and pawing at himself through his pants. I swear he doesn’t have a sadistic side. I think it’s curiosity that’s making him so experimental with the toy, but it’s verging on sadism.

Don’t get me wrong it feels good, but it’s a touch too much.

“Frank,” I whine trying to claw at the sheets below me, for something to hold onto. I bunch up some of the linen, but it’s really not doing much to keep me grounded to earth. I feel like gravity is wearing off on me, like I’m going to fall off the planet. I’m trying to get a grip on something firm so that I don’t just drift off the surface of earth. It’s not doing much to help me though.

I look back at him, and his look could curdle milk. Usually he’s all happy with his big brown eyes, and his sex mouth, so you can’t actually tell that he has a very stern composure that somewhat resembles that of a serial killer. He’s deep in concentration, and, while I find it hot, I also find it unnerving. I don’t think I look that threatening when I try to be intimidating. I just look like I have a wedgie. Frank looks like he could easily murder you, your family, your neighbors, and your seventh grade English teacher. It’s pretty impressive considering he’s a foot and a half tall.

“Frank.”

Now If I’m going to be absolutely honest, I really like having a boyfriend with a one syllable name. Is that strange? It’s kind of strange, but god does it make my life easier. I’ve had my fair share of Elijah’s, Jeremy’s, Benjamin’s, and there was a Demetrius once, but fucking hell that’s a lot of syllables to get out when you’re trying to cum. I just want something simple, not too much work to get the name out of my mouth. Frank I like. One syllable, nice and quick. Perfect for screaming out during climax.

Yes, I am a hypocrite, being a Gerard myself, which is one too many syllables, but it’s what I shout that I care about, I don’t give a fuck what Frank says. I love hearing him say my name, but he’s so bad with words when he’s being fucked or vice versa, that usually it’s just something along the lines of ‘frenurnemgardu’ or something else unintelligible. I’ll hear a ‘Gee’ or two, but I’m not sure if that’s meant to be me, or if he’s just really passionate about his alphabet.

Obviously I’m kidding. I have absolutely no trouble in getting Frank to say my name.

Frank’s making some variation of a purring sound, and it’s going straight to my dick. His hand is so warm, and I don’t want him to move it. I feel the mattress moving beneath me, but I don’t process it until I feel Frank’s mouth at my shoulder. He’s just sort of biting, and I feel him looking at me, but my eyes are clamped shut like a high security vault. They aren’t going to open and there’s not a thing anyone can do to force them.

Frank’s hot breath is against the skin of my neck and shoulder. It’s hard to focus on that though, because the vibrations are pulsing through me pretty fiercely. I think it’s on all the way now, and my brain is not meant to have this many thoughts all at once. It’s not even that many brainwaves, but some of them are kind of overpowering.

“Frank,” I moan, and he changes the angle of the toy which almost makes me scream. It’s like he knew precisely where the right spot was, and was intentionally missing it. He’s dead on now though, and my toes curl because there’s no way I can do this much longer.

I’m going to just collapse, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll implode in on myself, I can already feel the pressure in my stomach

“F-Fra...” I drift off, because I’m interrupted by a guttural sound from my own throat.

“You gonna cum?” Frank asks, softly. I don’t understand his tone, and I’m not going to exert the effort to try.

My eyes are still fixed shut, so I can’t see him, but his head is right by my face. His forehead falls, and rests itself on the part of my head where neck meets skull. My hair is sweaty, and I can feel that Frank’s is too, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Please Gerard,” Frank asks, and I don’t know why on earth _he’s_ the one begging _me_. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t care, I’m lost.

I’m hanging by a thread, but it snaps, and then the world just fragmentizes around me. It’s like a heavy curtain falls onto my body compressing me to the earth, which I had been almost falling off of only a moment ago. The only thing that actually does make me remember the reality of anything is this little circle Frank draws on the small of my back.

It blows me back down a peg when I remember how gentle he is. He is not the kind of person who gets off by being mean or harsh, that’s for sure. It’s surprising that he’s so passionate, and also so careful.

I lose track of how long I lie there, with my head to the side in the general direction of Frank, but with heavy lidded eyes refusing to follow the orders of my brain.

At last my eyelids allow me to open very blearily and I see Frank, biting his lip, looking right at me. He’s on his side gawking at me like I’m some sort of artistic masterpiece, and as soon as he sees me look at him, his eyes dart downward and a pink color fills his cheeks.

One thing I’ve never liked about an orgasm is coming down from it. It’s like getting off the best fucking rollercoaster in the world, and having to just sigh because it’s over. Yeah it was fun, and you’re going to feel that adrenaline for a few hours, but you have to wait until you can do it again, and it bothers me. I want to be a teenager again so I can pop a boner like you pop Pringles, and that may be the dumbest thing I’ve ever even thought.

“I’m gonna keep you,” I say breathily, and Frank snorts.

“Well that’s good because there’s like thirty fucking boxes in your living room full of all my shit,” Frank says, looking pleased.

I smile at him, and just lie there for a minute, trying to calm myself down. Then I realize that Frank’s totally hard and I haven’t done anything to help him with that yet.

“Your turn,” I say, and Frank doesn’t seem to understand my words for a long second. His face is still amused, and then his eyebrows furrow. I pounce on him before he has the chance to respond though.

Frank looks nervous and worried when I clamber on top of him, and he agitatedly mumbles, “Gerard, I-”

“Well fuck,” I say, because Frank’s gone soft. The look in his eyes is easily readable. Guilt, and embarrassment. He came in his pants, like a sixteen year old boy dry humping for the first time.

“Sorry,” he says timidly.

“You’re such a loser,” I reply to him, and fall on top of him laughing.

“You are far too hyper given our recent antics,” Frank says when he’s pinned down below me. I feel his words as much as I hear them, because of how closely pressed together we are.

“This is what being my roommate entails,” I tell him.

“I think I’m going to like living on the ninth floor.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was long overdue and I apologize, but at least it exists at all. I’d appreciate comments very much!


End file.
